Ambrose and Alderien's exchange ended with the latter's complete defeat.
Four hundred years had tempered him, yes, but Ambrose had grown as well. Losing to the lich he had become was nothing to be ashamed of. After all, even gods had been outplayed by Ambrose, and more than once at that.
Catherine sensed that the two were hiding something from her, but she couldn't quite pry out anything.
In the end, they reached a tentative arrangement: Alderien would probe James Watson for an offer on Ambrose's behalf. If he was clever, he'd squeeze as much as possible out of the High Inquisitor. Otherwise, the elves themselves might end up footing the bill.
Meanwhile, Ambrose sought out the old elven king to arrange a meeting with Arthur Lyon's spirit, both to verify its authenticity and to give two ancient comrades a chance to reunite.
He didn't have to wait for long. The old elf arrived, his face etched with the weight of centuries.
He clearly held no fondness for Ambrose, and dispensed with pleasantries entirely. "Let me see Arthur."
Ambrose didn't mind his attitude. To him, a customer was a customer. He set the hourglass artifact on the table.
Arthur Lyon's spectral form emerged from its sands.
The old elf's eyes reddened instantly. His voice trembled. "Arthur... it really is you!"
Arthur studied him for a long moment before recognition dawned.
"You're... Hildas?!"
The aged elf finally broke. Tears spilled freely down his face. Over a thousand years had passed, but at last he was standing once more before the comrade who had fought beside him.
Arthur sighed as he looked at the wrinkled face before him. "So it really has been a thousand years... I never thought I'd live to see you grow old."
The old elf chuckled through his tears. "I've seen you grow old too, and you looked far worse than this."
Arthur grinned. "That wasn't me. I won't age anymore. I'll always be the most handsome paladin on the continent."
Seeing the two heroes overcome with emotion, Ambrose tactfully excused himself, leaving them to their reunion. After all, they were two legends who had once stood together against the Dragon Tyrant.
Four or five hours passed before they finally emerged. If Arthur's spirit hadn't begun to weaken, they might have talked for days.
Tear tracks still marked the old elf's face by the time Ambrose returned.
He didn't tease old Hildas Terra for it. Instead, he got straight to the point. "Well, I suppose there's no need to ask. That is Arthur Lyon's spirit."
"Name your price," the old elf said gravely.
Ambrose raised a brow. "What's this? The elves plan to outbid Lyon for their founding holy king?"
"Yes. He must not return to Lyon. He's still the same impulsive man he was back then. If he returns, those degenerate royals will destroy him. I watched him march to his death once, and I won't let it happen again."
Arthur's memories stopped before the Dragon Tyrant's defeat. He knew nothing of the empire that followed. A thousand years ago, he had been the Holy King, an untouchable hero.
Now, as a mere spirit, there were countless ways the Lyon royal family could erase him.
"Different reasons, same result. I don't mind having more buyers," Ambrose said lightly. "But you're no longer king. Can you even afford him?"
"Name your price. I'll find a way."
"Then... one trillion gold."
The old elf snapped, "Have you lost your mind? Do you even understand that number? That much gold could fill an entire city!"
Ambrose smiled. "Depends on the city. It wouldn't fill Lyon's capital. And while it sounds like a lot, Lyon might actually manage it."
The old elf scoffed. "Not unless they turn their entire population into gold."
"Is Arthur Lyon not worth that much?"
"Numbers you invent on the spot mean nothing. No kingdom on the continent has that much gold."
"Not in gold alone," Ambrose replied calmly. "But I'm willing to accept other valuables as substitutes. Like... the Draconic Armaments."
The old elf frowned. "Even if they gave it to you, which they won't, what use would it be? Only Arthur's bloodline can wield it. Not even his spirit could. What would you do with it?"
"Collect it," Ambrose said simply. "Whether I can use it doesn't matter. What matters is that Lyon can't. I'm a lich, and Lyon is my natural enemy. Whether they possess the Draconic Armaments or not makes a very big difference to me."
The old elf considered this. The artifact could indeed shift the balance of the entire continent, but Lyon would never trade it away.
It was more than a weapon. It was a symbol. Lose it, and the empire's decline would be inevitable.
"Give up on that idea," the old elf said. "I can offer you an elven divine artifact in exchange."
He produced a plain wooden ring, one so unremarkable it looked almost crude. There was no gem nor visible magic. But his next words stunned Ambrose.
"Anyone who wears this ring will be marked. Upon death, it will trigger a Perfect Resurrection once."
"A Perfect Resurrection?!"
Ambrose was shocked to his core.
Ordinary resurrection required a mostly intact body and soul. Without a soul, it was impossible.
Take the case of Aige's father, who had sacrificed his very soul to awaken the ghost ship.
A soul that had dissipated could no longer be resurrected.
But Perfect Resurrection ignored such limits. It functioned even with a ruined body or ruptured soul. It would restore the person completely, curing even a terminal illness in the process.
Even if Ambrose's phylactery were shattered and his soul devoured, he could still return to life.
That was the power of Perfect Resurrection.
For a moment, Ambrose thought of Aige. Perhaps this could bring her father back.
But the old elf quickly clarified that the ring had to be worn before death to take effect. It could not be used on others.
"When Arthur challenged the Dragon Tyrant, he wore this very ring," the old elf added.
"And how do you know it still works?" Ambrose asked. "What if it already triggered back then?"
"It can be used repeatedly, once every hundred years. A thousand years have passed. It's surely ready again."
For a human, that limitation was severe. For a lich, it was negligible.
Surely he wouldn't be unlucky enough to have his phylactery destroyed twice in a century?
Ambrose was tempted, but it wasn't quite enough.
"A powerful artifact," he admitted. "But Arthur Lyon is worth more. The hourglass he inhabits is already a divine artifact. A one-for-one trade? I'd be taking a loss."
"I have nothing else of comparable value," the old elf snapped. "This is my only artifact."
That much was true. Unlike Catherine, favored by the gods and laden with blessings, the old elven king had only this one.
"Then let's hear Lyon's offer first," Ambrose said.
"Lyon will never part with a divine artifact! Do you even understand how rare they are?"
Ambrose smirked. "I've got plenty." He dropped a black dagger onto the table.
"This one is a gift from Shara. She begged me to take it."
Before the old elven king could sense the dagger's divinity to confirm Ambrose's claim, he produced a coin. "And this? It's from the God of Alchemy. He too insisted I accept it."
Finally, he tapped the hourglass. "And this is the Dragon Tyrant's artifact. I found it on the road." He spread his hands. "To me, divine artifacts are everywhere. What's the problem?"
The old elf fell silent. He, a former elven king, possessed a single artifact.
This lich had several. Was he Aion's favored child?!
In the end, negotiations broke down. Ambrose coveted the Perfect Resurrection ring, but he wouldn't trade away his most valuable asset so easily. Resurrection was powerful, yes, but it paled in comparison to the Draconic Armaments.
As the old elf prepared to argue further, Ambrose abruptly changed the subject, producing Trisna's corpse.
The old elf recognized her instantly.
"It's her... You've avenged us well."
"You knew her?" Ambrose asked.
"She slaughtered my people. Not once, but thrice. Three villages, two thousand lives." The old elf exhaled slowly. "You have my thanks."
Now that he had confirmed the corpse's value, Ambrose pressed his advantage. "In that case, how about this: your favor, plus this dagger from Shara, in exchange for the ring?"
The old elf narrowed his eyes. "That dagger has a drawback, doesn't it?"
Ambrose immediately protested, "That's slander against a goddess! As her associate, I can't let that pass!"
"Now I'm certain there's something wrong with it," the old elf said flatly. "Talk to my grandson about the drow bounty. I'm no longer king."
Fearing another scam, he turned to leave without another word.
"Wait! I can add some gold!" Ambrose called after him.
The old elf walked away even more quickly.
Ambrose sighed. It looked like he'd have to wait for James Watson's offer. Surely the High Inquisitor had at least one or two divine artifacts to his name... right?